What if?
A sermon based on Acts 2: 1-21
June 8, 2014
Pentecost Sunday
Do you ever wonder what it would be like if one day in your life was different? What would it have been like if you hadn’t met your partner, or if you missed the email about the opportunity that changed your life. Or what if you had chosen that one college program, instead of the one you ended up in? What would it have been like if you hadn’t had that terrible argument with your parent, or if you had said that one thing that was at the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t bring yourself to say?
What if?
Sounds like the plotline for any number of mediocre romantic comedies.
What if one thing in your life had been different?
I’ve been asking myself this question about Pentecost. What if it never happened? What if tongues of fire did not descend that day on the disciples? What would have happened if a violent rushing wind did not fill the room where they were sitting? What if the Holy Spirit did not come and fill them, and give the disciples the ability to speak so that everyone could understand them?
What if?
What if there was no Pentecost?
What if the end of the story was Jesus’ ascension into heaven, leaving the disciples with many more questions not yet asked?
I’m convinced that if it weren’t for Pentecost, we would not be here. There would be no Germantown Mennonite Church, there would be no church. The story would have ended with Jesus’ ascension into heaven, with an unfulfilled promise of the Holy Spirit to come after him.
There are three things that Pentecost does for the story on which our faith and tradition is built:
1. First, Pentecost keeps Jesus rooted in the present. If Jesus’ ascension was the last thing, there would be no book of Acts, and there would be no Holy Spirit blowing in. Jesus would be a relic of history. A story of a Rabbi of the people, buried deep in the struggle for the survival of the people of Israel.
But with Pentecost, we have the inspiration of the Holy Spirit to move us ahead, and the example of Jesus to show us how to live fearlessly into the future. We have Jesus’ promises fulfilled–the promise of the Holy Spirit coming to us. With Jesus’ life as our guide, and the holy spirit to fill and move us, we can live out the call of the gospel to share the good news, the good news that is made relevant in the life of Jesus and in our own lives.
2. Second, Pentecost gives us the power to interpret with the help of the holy spirit. Jesus started this interpretation of the Jewish law and scriptures in his teaching and ministry. He challenged religious leaders by demonstrating his knowledge of the law and the scriptures. At Pentecost, the spirit filled the disciples and they too were able to interpret. They interpreted so that everyone could hear in their own language, and their own contexts.
This also means, as if we didn’t know it from the women disciples that were with Jesus, that all of us are prophets and interpreters of the gospel. Our sons and daughters will prophesy. All of us who are filled with the spirit will prophesy. That part of the story means that I can stand here today and preach. It means that Doug can worship lead, and Douglas can song lead. Up until that time, the prophesying was reserved to Rabbis interpreting the scripture and the law, and occasionally to the edgy priestly type who roamed the desert, ate bugs, and wore notoriously dirty underwear. Now, this is for all of us to prophesy, to be filled with the spirit, and to share the good news. What was once reserved for the few is now for all of us. The holy spirit, the great leveler of rank.
It means that we prophesy to the welcome of God. It means we speak about the justice of God when those around us feel they have done enough. It means we interpret the scripture in our time and context, in our language to those around us, and in all those other languages and dialects we speak.
3. Third, what happened on Pentecost made the the good news completely out of control. Completely untamable, un-orthodox, unpredictable. What happened on Pentecost has made it impossible for for church institutions to organize systems, or put anything into a neat box. The minute the institutional church has something figured out and organized, the Holy Spirit blows through and put our plans in a disarray.
The holy spirit blows in when the church tries to create order and women and queer folks in leadership don’t fit into that. The holy spirit blows in when we have our minds made up gender identity and how men and women should act. The holy spirit blows in when we develop this rigid sense of how worship is “supposed” to be. The holy spirit blows in when we think we have it together, that we’re good people, that we are living our lives without hurting others. The holy spirit blows in, moves the furniture around, blows down our carefully constructed spiritual homes, and wrecks it all.
Without Pentecost, we’d have a pretty good story, about a guy named Jesus that came to the people of Israel 2000 years ago, that shook things up, that enraged the Romans and insulted the Rabbis. We’d have a story of a guy that performed miracles, told some interesting and confusing parables, and hung out with people that most other people of Israel wouldn’t be caught dead with. We’d have a story of a man that was executed, and then came back to life, and after forty days of resurrected life, ascended into heaven.
Without Pentecost, we’d have an interesting story, but we wouldn’t have the church, we wouldn’t have the holy spirit breaking in on anyone except Jesus at his baptism. We wouldn’t have sons and daughters prophesying, young folks seeing visions, and old folks dreaming dreams. We wouldn’t have this uncontrollable spirit among us, making things new, welcoming in, confounding all the rules of decency and decorum.
Perhaps it would be a little easier for us if the holy spirit had not blown in that day in that upper room. Our responsibility would be lighter, we wouldn’t feel compelled to speak up, to speak out, to prophesy, to interpret and to testify. But if there was no Pentecost, we would not know about Jesus, we would not be inspired to follow in his way, we would not have the holy spirit pushing us, urging us to new places. We would not have this church, this body of people gathered together in this upper room, ready to hear the mighty rushing wind speak into our lives, and guide us to where she is calling us.
Thanks be to God for Pentecost, through which our story continues, now and forever. AMEN.
This was supposed to be about Pentectost
Cross posted at Practicing Families: http://goo.gl/BD389d
This was going to be a post about Pentecost, a reflection on my family’s love for our city wide Mennonite Pentecost service, a service that involves as many languages at the building can hold, as service that reminds me that from time to time, we can get along and be one.
But I don’t think I can write that post today. Because today I received one of those texts you never want to get from your child, “Mom, the school’s on lockdown; what do I do?.”
My thirteen year old son goes to school in downtown Philadelphia. He takes the train with his friends to school and back every day. He has a lot of freedom for a middle schooler, freedom that is well earned as a mostly-responsible kid.
Today, he went to school, and did all the things he was supposed to do. But today, an angry student from the college across the street, pulled out a gun in class and threatened a classmate. And that sparked a lockdown of the college, and my son’s school. The lockdown was an appropriate response to a violent situation. But, it terrified my son, and me.
The Columbine High school shootings happened fifteen years ago, and the attacks on the Twin Towers thirteen years ago. Both of those incidents changed how we parent. We raise our kids in times of terror, when our schoolchildren no longer prepare for distant cold war threats, but for angry people who only know how to express themselves with extreme violence. And that violence happens in places where we are trying to keep our kids safe.
What do we as parents do to respond? How do we keep our children safe, but teach them to live in a spirit of hope and not fear?
One of the things I love about Pentecost is that for one day in our church life, we can imagine being one. We can imagine that the church can put aside our theological, cultural, race and class divisions, a for one day and worship together in unity. This is–of course–much easier said than done. But it’s exactly why I love this day. It’s something to work towards together with other communities of faith, particularly when our own congregations look less like Pentecost than we wish they would.
But when things are frightening out there, it’s tempting to shut our doors, to shut out the spirit, to live in fear. We are tempted to keep to ourselves, to isolate from others, to stay only with those that share our culture and values.
But this is not how we are called to live. This is not what we are called to teach our children.
As difficult as it is to send my son out to the train some mornings, not knowing what his day will bring, I trust him into the care of the Beloved. I trust him with what he’s been taught in our home and community, and what we try to practice in our lives–that God loves all God’s children, and is present in every moment of their lives.
I also know that isolation does not give us glimpses of the beloved community. It does not give us Pentecost. It doesn’t bring us any closer to understanding who God is and what it means to follow in the way of Jesus.
When we our tempted shudder our doors and windows, to hide from a world that feels too violent to bear, may we open ourselves to the wonder of Pentecost. While fraught with unknowns, there is still joy in the gathering together, in the sharing fellowship with others who experience the world differently, and learning from them.
May we teach our young people to be God’s hopeful Pentecost children, even when the world feels frightening. AMEN.